Free The Body of Martin Aguilera by Percival Everett Page A

Martin.
    Salvador and Ignacio stood on either side of him and turned away from what he was doing. Lewis took a deep breath and this turned out to be a mistake for he took in a smell of death. He tasted bile and swallowed. The body was bloated, but Lewis thought not badly and then he wondered to what he was comparing it. The face was strange and lifeless, but it was Martin’s and he tried to avoid it. The body was naked and for this Lewis was thankful, for he did not have to touch it. On the dead man’s legs were several places where the flesh was raw, like burns, but the water had done things. Maybe he had even been nibbled at by fish.
    â€œLet’s go,” Ignacio said.
    Lewis was ready. “I’ll close my eyes and you lead me out,” he said.
    Salvador and Ignacio took either arm and walked him through the sick-sweet cloud and outside. Lewis felt faint when the clear air hit him, but the men held him up.
    â€œI’m okay,” Lewis said, finding his legs.
    â€œDid you see what you wanted?” Ignacio asked.
    Lewis nodded, walked to the pickup and leaned against it.
    â€œAre you all right?” Ignacio asked, his tone different.
    Lewis looked at him and found the eyes softer. “I’m fine. I want to thank you.” Lewis stood straight, looked out over the dessert. “Did you see his legs?”
    Salvador and Ignacio were silent.
    Lewis turned to face them. “Would you call those burns?”
    â€œGet in the truck and we’ll drive you back,” Ignacio said.
    â€œDidn’t you see the wounds?”
    â€œWe cannot talk of the dead,” Salvador said.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Lewis said, then he had to say, “I think Martin was murdered. I found him dead before he showed up in the river, at his cabin. He was lying on the floor.” Lewis shook his head.
    Salvador sighed. “Martin is dead. God called to him and he is dead. It doesn’t matter how he died.” He looked back at the morada . “Please, I can’t talk about it.”
    Lewis raised a hand to silence the man. He didn’t want them frightened further. “I’m sorry.”
    Ignacio walked around and climbed into the cab. Lewis climbed in behind Salvador on the passenger side. He looked out the window at the morada as they rolled away.
    â€œDon’t you want to blindfold me?” Lewis asked.
    Ignacio pulled the scarf from his pocket and handed it across Salvador to Lewis. Lewis tied it around his head. He felt good about this. He felt trusted and that they all understood something together.
    Someone turned the radio on and voices sang in Spanish the way into town. They let Lewis out in front of the theater. Nothing was said and the two men drove away.
    Lewis went back to his car. There was a ticket on the windshield. He looked and saw that he had parked over the white line in the diagonal space, but not very far. He sat behind the wheel and studied the ticket under the dome light. It had been signed by Manny Mondragon.
    Lewis thought about Martin on the way home. He thought about how awful it must be to drown and halfway hoped that he had been hit on the head and killed instantly, not feeling anything. Then he considered not feeling anything. Martin had been a man full of life and would have wanted to fight, even if against the river. Just to have a chance is all anyone can ask. Maggie would laugh if she knew what he was thinking. She would laugh, but she would understand. She would think it herself.
    He wondered how much Manny suspected and how much he knew. He didn’t know how to think of the sheriff. Was he the enemy? Was there an enemy? He began to feel paranoid. The wounds on Martin’s legs were real though, regardless of the cause. But what difference did it make? Could he go to the sheriff or the state police and talk intelligently about any of this? Was he closer to any kind of answer? Had he even made Martin’s death easier to take? It seemed